Memories Like a Mountain
by Kalana Fox
Summary: "Earth malakhim," Eizen had once said, "have memories as strong as mountains. Where the winds of time chip away at and rob humans and malakhim alike of their memories, we're blessed with the ability to remember everything. No matter how much time has passed." Written for the Eternal Dream zine in 2018. This is the full, uncut version.


AN: This is something I wrote for the Tales of Zestiria zine Eternal Dream last year. Excited to finally post it! I based it on some of my own experience as well as derived much of it from skits in Tales of Berseria. Please enjoy!

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"Earth malakhim," Eizen had once said, "have memories as strong as mountains. Where the winds of time chip away at and rob humans and malakhim alike of their memories, we're blessed with the ability to remember everything. No matter how much time has passed."

 _Blessed._ Is that what it could really be called? True, the fact she could remember so much did come in handy. Like putting Meebo in his place, piquing Sorey's interest, or filling in the gaps of Lailah's own memory. She wouldn't call those blessings, though. If anything, they were perks. A big difference. Outside of those perks, her memories only served as painful reminders of things she used to have—things she'll never have again. What purpose did that serve except to capitalize on her loneliness?

Her limited understanding of the humans Eizen loved so much told her that most human memories start when they're about four years old. For her, though, her memories start from the moment she opened her eyes after materializing from the earthpulse. Seraphim—or malakhim as they'd called themselves back then—aren't normally born as babies, but she was a rare case—or so she'd been told. She hadn't been a _baby_ baby like Meebo had been, but she was small enough and close enough in age that she might as well have been one. She didn't cry like a human baby, nor did she move much from where she formed, but her presence had been felt in the small seraphim village nearby. For a little while her vision had just been full of the blue sky above her, but then it was obscured by a face—Eizen's face.

They blinked at each other, mutually curious about the unfamiliar sight. When he picked her up to look at her more closely, his hands had been bare and she can still remember the warmth that radiated from his palms. She'd felt the connection being drawn between them from the moment their eyes had met. As she reached out her stubby hand to childishly grab at his dumb nose the connection grew stronger and then it solidified. This smiling idiot was her brother, and though she was still new to the world at the time the realization of that bond made one thing clear to her: she wasn't alone.

Many seraphim began learning to refine their artes very early on in life. For Edna, she started using artes subconsciously at an earlier age than most seraphim and it was only when a rock almost fell on her that Eizen began to properly teach her. Well, as best as he could, given their different fighting styles. She was a smart girl, though, so even with Eizen's bumbling teaching methods she grasped how to control them quickly enough.

From there, it was just a matter of refinement. That happened over the course of several years, on and off. A new arte here, a different technique there, and though it was pointless to consider, she couldn't help but compare herself to him in terms of their ability. He'd lived longer than her, so of course he knew more artes than her and could perform more powerful feats with his than she could. That didn't stop her from trying to emulate him anyway, and every time the miscalculation of power came back to bite her. One time when trying to mimic one of the ice spells she saw him use, the arte came out too big and the backlash caused frostbite over both of her hands and forearms. Eizen's mother hen tendencies got worse after that. Despite the lectures she'd get, his worried admonishment always came with the added assurance, "You're fine as you are, don't push or overwork yourself like that."

Her first experience with a thunderstorm was a particularly strong memory. It was a warm Summer day in their tiny mountain village. At first there was just a light drizzle and Edna—age 7—stood under the awning of the simple house they lived in, watching the rain fall while staying dry. She hated the sensation of getting wet, but the sound of rain was nice. Calming. At least it was until the rain began to fall harder, chasing any remaining seraphim—except the weirdo water types—under shelter. As soon as she'd adjusted to the changed rhythm of the rain a bright flash of light and a loud **_BOOM_** that shook the ground beneath her feet had her shrieking and running into the house. Eizen, who'd been reading a book, barely had time to react before Edna crawled into his lap and clung tightly to him, hiding her face in his shoulder.

"Edna, what's—" Eizen started, but was cut off when another clap of thunder resounded from outside.

It wasn't as earth shaking as the first, but still powerful and loud and Edna's shoulders tensed with the hitch of her breath.

"Ah," he'd said, shifting only to mark his place and put the book down so he could gently pat Edna's back in comfort, "we don't normally get thunderstorms up at this altitude. This is the first one we've had in a while."

"It's loud," she said, muffled slightly by his shoulder, "I don't like it. Make it—eek!" Another thunderclap and she began to tremble, "Make it stop!"

Eizen chuckled before wrapping both arms around her, placing his other hand on the back of her head and petting her hair.

"That's unfortunately not in my power to do, but it'll go away on its own in a few minutes."

Nonsense, she thought. Eizen was dumb, but he was bigger than her and stronger too.

"Yes you can, just punch it like you do everything else!"

Eizen laughed again, this time louder.

"I can't punch the rain, Edna."

"Not the rain, dumbo, the loud boomy thing!"

"The thunder," he corrected her, "is just the sound of competing currents of electricity in the air. It can't hurt you. Listen, the storm's already passing."

She did and he was right. The rain had gone back to its gentle drizzle and the latest clap of thunder was faint compared to the previous ones. This realization made her relax and lean back, though the 'I told you so' look on Eizen's face made her harrumph and puff her cheeks out in annoyance.

"Whatever. You could've taken it."

She left him with that as she ran to her room, Eizen's boisterous laugh behind her.

Part of her had always known, somewhere in the back of her mind, that something was wrong with Eizen. A faint darkness always surrounded him, but he didn't seem to mind it so neither did she. True, it did seem at the time like she got hurt or sick more often whenever Eizen was around, but those were nothing. Minor, annoying inconveniences if anything. Eizen, at the time, had also been making more and more trips down the mountain to the nearest human village. To get supplies, or so he'd always tell her. Every time he returned, the cloud was a little more visible.

Convinced the humans must be doing something to him, she tried to get him to stop going.

"Eizen, you should stop visiting those humans," she'd said one evening.

She didn't consider herself particularly close to any of the other seraphim in the village at the time. She didn't need to be in order to find things out about the world she lived in. She'd overheard murmurs that most seraphim by then had adopted vagabond lifestyles—that seraphic villages like theirs were pretty much a relic of a dead era long before she was born. But the most important thing she'd overheard was whispers of judgement directed at Eizen, because while most of them did live in house-like structures Eizen was the only seraph in the village to fully adopt living like a human, even the unnecessary parts like eating. It worried her, for various reasons.

"Hm? Why?" He'd asked, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

She'd clicked her tongue. She knew this topic wouldn't be easy, but Eizen's stubbornness was another beast entirely.

"People are talking."

"So?"

"They're saying mean things about you!"

"And?"

"So you should stop hanging around earth-dwellers so much."

"No."

"Eizen!"

"What?!"

She narrowed her eyes into a glare, intending to be intimidating, but the effect wasn't as potent as she wanted it to be. But she tried. Eizen was unaffected and just kept his arms crossed.

"Don't you care about what the others think and say?" She finally asked after a few moments of a glaring contest between them.

"Not particularly. Never have. Do you?"

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again without a word, frowning instead. Idly, her fingers clenched around the handle of her closed umbrella—a gift Eizen had brought from the village a few weeks ago—and twisted it where it lay against her shoulder. Thinking on his question, there wasn't really any reason for her to care what other seraphim thought, was there? It irritated her, sure, but it wasn't the real issue. The real issue, she realized, was humans. Humans with their poisonous clouds of darkness, latching carelessly to Eizen and infecting him, draining him slowly of his essence. The closer they got to him, the more distant he felt to her. She didn't understand it. The umbrella's weight on her shoulder grounded her where she was. It really was a nice umbrella…

"No," she finally answered, then changed the topic slightly, "but I want to meet these humans."

It took some convincing and a lot of arguing, but finally Eizen caved and the next morning they both walked down the mountain towards the human village. On the way Eizen began to ramble about the history of the village. Edna feigned disinterest but didn't actively try and stop him. The village, it turned out, was a proper, bustling town in the foothills of their mountain, though when Eizen had been younger—before she was born—the town had been a small hamlet coinciding with their own seraphic village. Many people at the time had lost their resonance, but there remained a few who could at least see Eizen when he visited, though the numbers steadily became smaller as time went on. Edna wondered why, then, Eizen bothered coming so much if most people couldn't see him.

It turned out that, of the few people who could see him, this included a family of merchants who ran the town's tavern. When she and Eizen entered there were only a few patrons in the main sitting area who wasted no time in complaining about the magically opening door. They barked their complaints then returned quietly to their drinks and their own conversations. The barkeeper, though, had the light of recognition in his eyes as he looked up and saw them before subtly motioning them over to a secluded part of the tavern where talking to oneself didn't seem suspicious at all. He, Edna learned, was the great-great-something grandson of the human Eizen first met and resonance ran strong in their bloodline. He greeted her with a smile, but all she did was nod in acknowledgement. Then he and Eizen talked and clapped each other on the shoulder before Eizen ordered drinks for them both—beer for himself and hot chocolate for her. She watched these happenings unfold with only a little boredom, clutching her umbrella tightly against her shoulder. So far her impression of humanity was that they were loud and rude. Nothing about them seemed interesting enough to take her brother away.

When the barkeeper returned with their drinks he also set a small plate down in front of Edna. She stared at the flaky, vaguely heart shaped pastry in confusion before directing the look at him instead. It was something called a palmier, apparently. At Eizen's encouragement she took a tiny bite out of it, expecting it to taste terrible. Instead, the sweetest taste she'd ever tasted flooded her mouth and before she could stop herself, the pastry was gone. Okay, so maybe humans could do _some_ things alright.

After that, whenever Eizen went down to the village he'd always bring back a small box of palmiers for her. She didn't know why, but something about them was just…calming. They made a decent comfort food. Maybe humans had artes they used to make their sweets addictive. She didn't know and frankly she didn't care. They helped calm her nerves and that's all that mattered. Eventually Eizen had gotten them so much that the barkeeper gave him the recipe.

Seraphim don't have birthdays, but Eizen had made their birthdays traditions in their household—yet another human trait he'd adopted over the years. Hers was coming up soon, so one evening he shooed her out of the house with the errand of collecting firewood for them. She protested, because why do they need firewood when there are fire seraphim nearby, but she gave in and wandered around the outskirts of the village. When she returned hours later with a small bundle of twigs and sticks in her arms the smell of palmiers hit her as she approached, her pace picking up a little. Eizen, predictably, was in the kitchen and told her to put the wood she'd gathered in the fire under their oven. She did, but the moment the wood touched the small flame it grew in size with a roar and surged outward from the opening. It happened faster than she could react and the next thing she knew the side of most of her right leg had a nasty burn along it. Her screams had Eizen by her side in seconds, mother hen mode in full force. Despite her protests he took time to treat the burn. Consequently, the palmiers he'd been making for her came out more like charcoal than the proper pastry she knew. It was upsetting, but more upsetting was the pained expression on Eizen's face as he helped her to bed, the burnt treats forgotten on the kitchen counter.

"Eizen," she'd said, "it's fine. I'm fine. I still want to eat them."

But her assurance and insistence were only met with Eizen's frown deepening, a shake of his head and a pat to the top of her own before he left to clean up. Her leg hurt, but watching his back as he left the room made her heart hurt even more, seized with an anxiousness that she couldn't yet understand.

A few days after that incident, Eizen declared that from that day onward it would be safer for Edna to do the cooking for them. She didn't understand the logic there, considering she was the one who got burnt, so wouldn't it make more sense to keep her away from fires? But Eizen had made a decision and, like a mountain in a hurricane, he refused to yield, so Edna agreed to it. Despite the bad burn, fire didn't bother her and if it made Eizen feel more at ease then she figured it was fine.

Despite the switch they'd made, Edna wasn't any less prone to injury. Several times she'd stub her toe or fall. It wasn't anything serious—not like the burn she received before—but ever since then Eizen had seemed to worry more and fret over even the tiniest injury, so she began to try and hide any new injuries from him. She didn't want him to worry. When he worried, he would go to the village. And when he did that the cloud at his back only grew darker and bigger.

It didn't really seem like that big of a deal until a Fall day when she was 8. She was outside, stoking the beginnings of a fire in their make-shift pit; because after the burn incident Eizen figured it'd be safer for her to work with an open fire instead of their oven. Dinner was going to be whatever Eizen and Joel—another seraph from their village—brought back from hunting in the nearby woods.

Things were going well, until the sky opened abruptly with rain, dousing her fire and ruining the wood she'd spent all morning gathering. It was unfortunate, but just as she'd turned to run for cover a painful stabbing sensation filled her chest and made breathing feel as if her lungs were full of rocks. A domain had appeared. A powerful, malevolent domain. The other seraphim that were out of their homes were similarly frozen in place, fear on their faces as this kind of domain meant only one thing.

Weakly, she turned her head in the direction of the woods, the trees appearing darker through the purple haze of the domain. It…It wasn't possible, was it? He couldn't have…

"Ei—"

But just as she began to speak a large shadow crashed through the trees and flew with impressive speed straight for her. She had no time to react, barely any time to scream, and the next thing she knew she was high in the air, trapped in the talons of a dragon.

The beast let out an angry roar as it flew higher above the clouds. For a moment she was afraid it was going to drop her from this height, but as it reached its apex it dove straight back to the ground, the dive punctuated by a shrill scream from her. Like when it left the woods it raced down the mountainside on the wind, heading straight for and into the human town. The next moments were fuzzy, the constant jerking around by the dragon causing her to go in and out of consciousness. She remembered screaming. From her and the multitude of humans being attacked by it. She remembered fire and blood, death and destruction.

 _Eizen, stop!_ She'd thought at one point, fearfully convinced of who this dragon was.

When she regained consciousness again the wind was once more in her hair as the dragon flew back up the mountain. Behind them, from what she could see, was nothing but smoke and ruined buildings.

He'd…He'd destroyed the town he loved…killed the humans he loved…and now he was going to kill their fellow seraphim too… No. No no no no no _NO!_

"EIZEN!"

But before the dragon could make it to their village something stopped it with powerful force and it shrieked in pain, loosening its grip on her. She pinched her eyes shut with a squeal, bracing for impact that never came, partly because someone caught her before she hit the ground and partly because she fainted again after barely registering that fact.

When her eyes opened once more it was to the sight of the dragon dissolving into light. Standing over it, with his back to her, was Eizen. As he turned to walk over to where she was resting against a rock her eyes sweltered with heat before overflowing with equally hot tears. From fear or relief, she didn't know.

Eizen knelt to her eye level when he was close enough, his smile strained as he reached out to pet her head and brush a tear away with his thumb.

"It's okay. You're safe now," he'd said.

Such reassurance should've relieved her, but it only served to make her cry more.

"Eizen," she'd managed to say through her tears, weakly reaching out to clasp his sleeves tightly in her small fists, making sure he was real. "Eizen. Eizen."

She had no idea what she was trying to say. All she could think to say right now was his name, whenever the flow of her tears allowed her to speak. Eizen hadn't been the dragon. He wasn't a dragon. He hadn't become a dragon. He was here, he was still here. The fabric of his jacket was rough against her fingers. He was real. This was real.

Whatever she'd been trying to say, Eizen understood. Carefully, he scooped her up again into his arms and she wasted no time in burying her face against his shoulder, muffling the rest of her crying there as she clung to him. By the time they reached their village, her tears had mostly all been cried out. Now she was just tired. And sore. Ugh.

Rather than head straight for their house, though, Eizen paused as they crossed the threshold into the village.

"Eizen," said someone with a deep voice, "who was that?"

She lifted her head from where it was perched to look over her shoulder. Almost all of the seraphim in the village were gathered in the center, most of them looking apprehensively at Eizen. The one who'd spoken was the elder, who stood in front of the rest. Though he was the oldest in the village, he didn't actually look all that old. But his face was hardened with a stern expression that made Edna anxious.

"Joel," Eizen answered simply.

Joel. The seraph who went hunting with Eizen. She hadn't known him that well, but she knew he strongly disapproved of Eizen's interest and exposure to humanity.

"We were hunting together when he started up an argument with me. I tried to defuse it, but he just got angrier. Then he turned into that," Eizen continued.

"I see," said the elder, his arms crossed and eyes closed, "This has been on our minds for some time now, but, with recent events being what they are…we think it's best that you leave. The sooner the better."

A low murmur of agreement rippled through the assembled crowd of seraphim. She'd feared this outcome, but hadn't expected it to happen like this or this quickly. Though this was shocking to her, she strangely felt numb to it. Perhaps due to the overwhelming emotions from earlier.

Eizen scoffed, "What, am I dangerous now? I neutralized the dragon for you."

"Be that as it may, it's become clear now that your very presence puts all of us in danger," the elder's gaze shifted to her and she reflexively clung tighter to Eizen, "Especially to the little one. I think it's best that she stays with us, but you need to—"

" **NO!** " The cry left her lips before she could think to stop it, her arms around Eizen's neck in a vice grip as she furiously shook her head against his shoulder. The gentle pressure of Eizen's hand on the back of her head made her stop flailing, but the thought of separation had her crying into his jacket once more.

"She refuses," Eizen said.

She heard the elder sigh deeply through his nose and imagined he still had his arms crossed and eyes closed.

"Very well," he said, "It appears you've already poisoned her anyway."

The crowd dispersed after that, a few whispering to each other as they went to their own houses. They were expected to leave by morning. Although there hadn't been more than light structural damage in their village, the human town wasn't as fortunate. It was completely destroyed and not a single human survived. Consequently, the area had been soaked in malevolence. It didn't pose them any immediate threat, but there was a worry that given time it would eventually drift upwards into the village. Many of the seraphim expressed apprehension at that, some murmuring suggestions that they just abandon the place, adopt vagabond lifestyles like the rest of the world's seraphim had already done.

She didn't care about that now, though. She was being kicked out of the only home she'd ever known, and it was likely that in a few years it wouldn't be there anymore anyway. But that was fine, she told herself. She'd only really been connected to the village because Eizen was there anyway. So, as long as she was where Eizen was, she'd never really be homeless. Eizen _was_ her home. As she lay on her bed after packing up what meager possessions she could think to take with her she turned her gaze to the window. The rain that had started from the dragon's appearance was no longer falling, but the sky remained dark with clouds.

When they left the next morning, no one saw them off. She didn't know how long they wandered for, only that it had been many days and nights of walking or getting carried when she was too tired to walk anymore. Finally, they stopped as they approached the peak of another mountain. There was no one around—human or seraphim—and the air was clean. Eizen deemed the place good enough to settle. It wasn't a bad place, she thought.

Since there wasn't any seraphic village here nor were any of the human villages in reasonable walking distance, there wasn't much of a point in building a house here too. They didn't need to either, since there was a small enclosure of rock carved into the mountain that would give them suitable shelter. Even so, it wasn't as comfortable as the bed she'd always had. She didn't complain, though. She wouldn't! Past comforts meant nothing anymore. All that mattered was that she still had Eizen and now…now there was no way anything else bad could happen. Nothing else could push him away. No humans would take him from her now.

Or so she'd believed until one day, after they'd been settled into their new home for a while, Eizen made a sudden announcement.

"Edna, I've decided to go on a journey."

It was late and they were eating dinner—a light vegetable soup. The sudden declaration made her pause in her eating, though she resumed shortly after the initial shock had passed.

"Okay, when are we leaving?" Because of course he'd take her with him, right? A glance up to his face revealed a frown and his eyes hidden behind his stupid hair. …Right? "Eizen?"

"I meant alone, Edna. You'll be staying here."

Her bowl clattered to the ground as she jumped to her feet, soup forgotten.

"No I'm not!"

"Yes, you are. I have to go alone."

"No you don't! I can go with you!"

"It's too dangerous! You'll be safer here."

"Is this because of what they said before? I thought you didn't care about that!"

"I don't, but they were right. I've let this curse hurt you for too long already."

"You're not the one hurting me! Take me with you, I can help!"

"No, I've made up my mind."

"But—"

"Edna! You're staying and that's final!"

She ground her teeth and clenched her hands into fists as she glared at him. This didn't make sense! Where had she gone wrong?! Why wasn't he letting her go with him?! He'd set his own bowl aside when he started talking, so now his arms were crossed over his chest and his mouth was drawn in a frown. His typical stance that told her no further arguing would make him budge. She felt tears forming at the corner of her eyes, but before they could fall she turned quickly on her heel and ran outside, further up the mountain. He didn't chase after her.

Later when she returned to their makeshift home, Eizen was already asleep and the mess she'd made earlier had been cleaned up. She stayed where she was at the entrance for a moment before grabbing her small cot and dragging it over to be next to Eizen's, flopping down on it so her back was pressed to his. A simple comfort to tell her he was still there. Seraphim didn't need to sleep anyway. She fully intended to stay awake until Eizen got up. If he was so intent on leaving her, then she just wouldn't let him! Or so she stubbornly thought, not realizing when her eyes grew heavy and she fell asleep anyway.

In the morning, the first thing she noticed was the lack of warmth at her back. The realization had her sitting up quickly, heart seized in panic as she frantically looked around. He was gone. Did he really just leave without so much as a word to her? Was she too harsh last night? These panicked thoughts raced through her mind as she got up to investigate, but just as she was about to move Eizen appeared at the entrance. He had a dead bird in hand. Adrenaline left her in a relieved sigh as she slumped back down onto her cot.

As she made breakfast for them he told her that he wasn't going to leave immediately, but it would be within the next day or two. He wouldn't be gone forever, only until he found a cure for his curse. And most importantly, he'd keep in touch through letters. That was all fine, she supposed, but she still felt bitter that he was leaving her and not even giving her the option of going with him.

For the rest of the day she secluded herself on top of their rocky home, scribbling away with paper and pen she'd borrowed from their belongings. When she finally came back down the sun was low in the sky and Eizen was reading one of his books by firelight. Without any preamble she marched over and held what she'd spent all day working on in front of his face. A small self-portrait of her that barely took up a corner of the page.

"So you won't forget what I look like," she'd said.

Eizen blinked curiously at the paper before setting his book down and taking it in hand instead. He smiled at the childish scribble, a genuinely happy and amused smile that Edna hadn't seen him do in a while. Then he took one of the pieces of paper and pens and scribbled for a few moments before presenting her with an equally bad self-portrait of himself.

"Seems only fair you have one too," he'd said, "but they'll get ruined if they stay exposed like this."

Then something seemed to dawn on him and he got up to rummage through one of their packs. She watched him curiously and when he finally found what he was looking for he came back to her side. In his hands were two lockets—one on a long chain and the other on a short band of ribbon.

"If we do it like this," he explained while gently tearing around the edges of both of their drawings, making them small enough that they could fit inside the lockets, "then we'll always be close to each other, no matter how far away I am."

In the long chained locket, he put her self-portrait then put it around his neck. He did the same with his in the smaller locket and then reached out to put it around her neck. She brought her hand up to gently touch the smooth stone of the locket and the simple action had tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. Eizen's hand was heavy on top of her head as he ruffled her hair gently.

"Don't cry, Edna. I told you this morning, didn't I? I won't be gone forever. I'll be back, I promise."

They went to bed after that. When she next woke up, the cot beside her was cold and a note had been placed under her arm. It had instructions for how to send a letter, an apology, and a repeat of the promise spoken last night. Edna read it, crumpled it up and tossed it aside, then rolled over onto Eizen's abandoned cot and went back to sleep.

Seraphim, as should be expected, don't have a writing system. Most didn't write at all or even know how to write using the human's script. It changed so much, most of them never bothered with it. However, years before they were kicked out of the village, Eizen had thought it a good idea to teach her how to write. She never used it or had a need to back then, but he made her practice anyway. Now, in hindsight, perhaps his plan to leave her had been in the works longer than she'd suspected.

It was only a few moon cycles after Eizen left that she received a letter—her first letter. At first she didn't know what to do about it, until the Turtlez who delivered it suggested writing a reply before wandering off to give her time to write one. But that was the problem. All Eizen's letter consisted of was an apology for abruptly leaving, some descriptions of what he'd seen so far, and a few crude drawings. She simultaneously had a lot she could say—that she wanted to say—and not much to say at all.

By the time evening had fallen and the Turtlez had come back to check on her, she'd filled at least 5 sheets of crumpled up paper with crossed out starts and sentences. This was annoying, she decided. Why did she need to only keep in touch with him this way? There wouldn't be a need for any of this if he'd just taken her with him to begin with! Stupid curse! Stupid Eizen!

In the end, there was only one thing she could think to say in response to his apology—to his letter in general. She wrote it quickly, folded and sealed it the way his instructions had said, and sent it off with the Turtlez. In the middle of the paper, in handwriting that was out of practice and childishly big, there was only a single sentence:

 _I don't care if it's dangerous, I want to be with you!_

 _\- Hephsin Yulind_

Despite various attempts she made in her letters since then, Eizen didn't come home and always replied with more apologies and promises that he'd be back. Eventually, she gave up trying to persuade him. For a while after their first letter exchange she'd write short letters in response, but lately she had stopped writing them. It just became too bothersome. After all, unlike wherever Eizen was now, nothing changed about her life on the mountain. She maintained a sleep schedule out of habit, practiced her artes at the summit, sometimes ate, and sometimes read. Day in, day out. Nothing special to report usually. Besides, even with her lack of response Eizen continued to send letters and gifts.

It was because of one of those letters that she was sitting on a rock at the top of the path that led down the mountain. Her umbrella was open and resting on her shoulder as she twirled it subconsciously, her eyes scanning the path below. The letter she had gotten a few days before was Eizen telling her that he was coming home. For how long wasn't said. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't help but hope that it was forever.

She had been 10 years old when Eizen left. Though she had tried at first, she quickly lost track of how long it had been. At least 200 years, she thought. There was a point where she had noticed herself visibly aging and panicked a little about it. So she stopped aging quite as noticeably. It wouldn't be good if she looked nothing like what Eizen remembered when he came home, she reasoned. If it at least looked like no time had passed at all, then…then maybe they could pretend that no time had actually passed. It may've been wishful thinking, but wish for it she did.

She was brought out of her thoughts when she noticed movement at the bottom of the path. Her eyes widened as she jumped up from her perch, the familiar bright yellow of Eizen's hair unmistakable against the dull brown of the mountain path. The umbrella was no longer spinning, but the handle was clenched tightly in her hands as she watched him slowly come into focus.

When he was close enough that she could see his face more clearly he smiled and waved and suddenly the weight of 200 years of loneliness crashed down upon her heart.

"Eizen!" She called, her voice cracking as tears formed in her eyes.

200 years was a long time, she decided. 200 years too many. And now, finally, it was over. Finally, they could be a family again. Finally, time could move on as it was meant to. Even the dark cloud—which had only grown bigger and darker since he left—wasn't going to take this away from her.

She closed her umbrella before taking an unthinking step forward, intending to run the rest of the way down to meet him since he was being a slowpoke. That had been the intent, but…

As soon as she took more than two steps forward an inhuman screech resounded above her. Looking up revealed a hoard of six Garuda hellions descending right for her. She hadn't been prepared, so instead of using an arte to fend them off she helplessly waved her umbrella around at them; trying to knock them away and step away from them. It seemed to work a little, however she hadn't been watching where her feet were going and didn't hear Eizen's warning until it was too late. Her foot met open air instead of solid ground. She screeched as her body became weightless, falling over the open side of the cliff. It didn't last long though, as she immediately heard the sound of an arte going off, the Garuda hellion's painful death cries and Eizen's arms catching her out of mid-air and returning to the top of the path.

Her eyes had pinched shut when she began falling, but now they opened. She smiled, but when she found Eizen's face it immediately fell. Eizen was frowning, his teeth gritted and eyes hidden by his bangs. It reminded her of how he looked when he'd saved her from the dragon all those years ago, and before that when she was bedridden with a burn. This realization took any relief she had been feeling and replaced it with newfound fear. He wasn't—

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come here. I thought it would work this time, but…"

He was.

She tried to get his attention, pull him from those annoying thoughts he was muttering under his breath. That train of thought he was on only led to one destination and she wouldn't let it get there. She'd waited long enough already! But despite her attempts, even when she desperately reached out to grab at his coat sleeves, he continued to mutter about failed methods and danger.

"Eizen!"

But even calling his name and reassuring him she was okay wasn't getting through. It was just a small hellion attack! It was purely coincidental! So what if before that moment there had never been any hellions this high up on the mountain?! It didn't mean anything; it definitely didn't mean that he needed to leave again!

Yet he set her down anyway with another apology before he turned to walk back down the path.

"Wait!" She cried, reaching out to grab the back of his coat, missing by mere centimeters. He paused anyway, so she didn't waste the opportunity, "Don't go! You only just got here! At least stay one night?"

It was the desperate pleas of a lonely little girl, and though Eizen had looked like he was considering it he still shook his head.

"It's too dangerous still. I need to try something else," he said before looking over his shoulder at her. He was smiling in a way that was supposed to be comforting, but she knew better than that, "I'll be back, I promise."

And for the second time in her life, she could only watch helplessly as he walked with his back to her, growing smaller and smaller the further he became. If she reached out, she could grab him, but her hand would only find empty air.

Her legs shook before she collapsed to her knees, her vision swimming with built up tears. Eizen wasn't in sight anymore, so she dropped her hands to the ground, clenching her fists and disturbing the soil as she did.

 _Why? Why why why why why WHY?!_ He'd been so close to being home! If those stupid Garuda… If she had just…

A drop of water on the ground between her hands that wasn't rain. It felt hard to breathe, like a hand had plunged into her chest and was now squeezing around her heart. Her eyes were burning, more droplets joining the first, and all she could think to do now was scream. A sharp, mournful scream. He still didn't come back.

She received another letter soon after that. Another useless apology, another meaningless promise. Unlike before, she didn't answer the first letter. Or the second, or the third, or the fortieth. Gifts came every few letters, some interesting, some weird. Though she accepted them and created a small pile of them, she saw them for what they were—an extension of his apologies that would accompany them. When the letter confirming what she suspected deep down came to her, she finally replied. She supposed she'd have to since Eizen no longer intended to come home again.

The letters and gifts continued for many centuries. Eizen didn't apologize as much as he did before, and when reading his letters, he sounded happy to her. The realization was bittersweet—that her brother was happier among humans than he'd ever been around her, though she supposed it had always been the case. She just hadn't wanted to see it.

Since Eizen no longer planned to come home, she supposed she wasn't really bound to the mountain anymore like she had been, yet she stayed anyway. No matter how boring it was, it felt like she needed to be there.

As time went on, she noticed, Eizen's letters became less lengthy, and then less frequent—a development that began to concern her when she received a single glove as a gift from one letter, then his boots several letters later. He'd explained that he bought a new pair, so he felt like she should have his old ones instead. A simple, logical explanation that she would've bought…if he hadn't sounded like he was planning on dying.

The last letter she received was delivered to her on a summer day. It didn't have a gift, but it was an activity report. Something or someone was bothering Maotelus' domain, he'd said in the letter. So he was going to investigate and take care of the problem. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, a typical Eizen letter at that point. Except for the way it ended:

 _Remember that it's harmful to hold on to the past. Let it go and keep facing forward. Always keep in mind that you steer your own ship._

 _\- Uzfmiwuw Uexuv_

It was philosophical nonsense that Eizen often wrote about in his letters. He'd never said them to her like that, though. Reading the words, a pit of anxiety formed in her stomach and remained there into the next day. Something was wrong, and she feared she knew what.

She was forcefully awoken several nights later by the weight of a domain, the likes of which she hadn't felt in 1,000 years. It was suffocating, each painful breath she tried to take making her choke on the malevolent air. A brief flash of memory to the purple haze of a forest and she was on her feet quickly to look for the domain's source. The malevolence here was thicker and more oppressive than the domain she remembered. What that meant, she didn't know.

Stumbling outside, she was greeted by the sight of a familiar black shape against the purple hued sky, the sound of its roar—its scream—making her fall to her knees as she helplessly watched it fly around the peak. All of a sudden, she was 8 years old again, kidnapped by a dragon that had spontaneously transformed. The dragon back then hadn't been Eizen, but this one…

"Eizen…" She said, her voice small and strained with tears that were beginning to fall down her cheeks.

Eizen finally came home, but he wasn't Eizen anymore.

And so, what was the point of this trip down memory lane? Being able to remember so much in such detail was probably useful for some, she supposed, but it was utterly useless to her. She envied Lailah for being older than her and only barely remembering her own earliest memories, Zaveid for being third oldest and also only remembering bits and pieces, and Meebo who was too much of a baby to even have many memories to count yet.

These three seraphim, and even the humans she'd begrudgingly agreed to travel with, were far more blessed than she was. Blessed with the ability to forget. She wished she could forget, even a little bit.

"It's harmful to hold on to the past," had been Eizen's last written words to her.

"You may not have journeyed together, but with this you can share the memories," Rose had said as they all looked upon Eizen's grave.

Such contradicting sentiments. Memories weren't blessings to be passed around like stories at a campfire. Memories, especially for earth seraphim like her, were a curse. She was cursed with the weight of her whole lifetime of memories, and many more to come in the future. She always would be. Much like Eizen had been cursed from birth, perhaps this too was her own kind of curse. A curse she didn't start feeling until he came home as a dragon—and again as she helped to bring 200 years of his suffering to an end.

Mountains are strong. They endure no matter what disasters are thrown at them. If the oceans rise, they become islands. If the earth shakes, they grow taller. If the wind erodes them, they only grow rounder. If a fire wipes away all life on its surface, the mountain beneath stands strong in the end. Eizen's love of humanity and the journey he went on had given him many mountains of memories. If she continued her own journeys and made more memories, would she suffer the same fate as Eizen?

She supposed only time could tell.


End file.
